Crying
by B.J. Sanders
Summary: Ever wonder why Sasuke wears arm guards? No pairings. Dark thoughts, selfharm. Rated T just to be safe.


**TITLE: **_Crying_

**DISCLAIMER: **Naruto -- and all characters therin --does not belong to me.

**WARNING:** Dark and angsty. Self-harm. Maybe a little out-of-characterness. No pairings. I have warned you.

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**EVER WONDER WHY SASUKE ALWAYS WEARS ARM GUARDS?**

**--crying--**

Sasuke Uchiha can't cry. He cried once, and that had been because he scraped his knee and fell when he was five. But Itachi had said that crying was weak, so Sasuke didn't do it anymore. Not even when his entire family had been slaughtered before him; he couldn't show weakness!

…So he let his veins do the crying for him.

Every night he let his kunai cry red, decorating and writing on the pale flesh that stretched between his wrist and the crook of his elbow. So many scars, so many tales…

His mind was full of so many sad thoughts. Why? Why did it have to happen? No one would believe it, but he was an emotional wreck, crashing and burning, his fate and destiny to live forever with the fire of his pain.

He let his kunai tell the story to his flesh. Sweet, tender flesh marred by beautiful scars that were anything but beauteous. What was wrong with him? He's not good enough – that had to be it! He wasn't even good enough to be killed with the rest of his family – what was wrong!

He couldn't even scream anymore. His eyes were dry as his mouth let out a short, small gasp of quiet surprise. A sharp pain laced up his arm, splitting it into two. When he looked, however, he only saw blood. His hand was still whole.

Sasuke didn't know whether to be happy or not.

He was like a defective machine, found out for his flaws and cast out with the rest of the junk. He was damaged property nobody wanted to buy at a yard sale; the only cherry blossom to never bloom, but to fade away without ever knowing the sun, to float quietly away on the wind, unfurled petal by unfurled petal until he was nothing more than a bare branch incased in winter ice.

Crying was weak… _Weak_!

He looked down again at his bared wrist, blood slowly spilling into his palm, dripping down his fingers. The blade was right there, the perfect angle, all he had to do was press down…

No, this was weak. Crying was weak, but this… this was even weaker. Wasn't it? Maybe it was the other way around…? Or… No, no, no! What was he doing? …He couldn't even tell anymore.

He was spiraling away, getting dizzy. His mind was observing as though he was surrounded by strobe lights, his eyes only able to catch every other movement. He was sure he was faltering now.

Spinning, everything was spinning…

Distantly, he heard a clattering noise, a tinkling of metal hitting the floor. He tightened his hand, but didn't find the bandaged handle of the kunai there – that's what had fallen, hadn't it?

In the back of his mind, Itachi watched him, smiling grimly, blood splattered across his perfect face. Fugaku stood nest to him, eager with anticipation, a manic smile in his dark eyes. His mother's voice was chanting to him.

"It's time to wake up, Sasuke-kun. Your life was just a dream. It's time to die."

They were all so… happy to see him like this, inhibited and so sick he could barely stand…

Red was such a pretty color. His carpet was red, though earlier when before he had left the house it had been light beige. His walls were red too, and his windows and mirrors and chairs…

His arms were the brightest red though. They're what stood out the most, gaping wounds across his wrists. The strobe effect was working on his blood, too – pumped once, missed a beat, pumped again.

Was he…? But he wasn't supposed to be… No!

This wasn't the way it was supposed to be – this isn't the way he was going to go out! If he couldn't defeat Itachi, then at least be able to scold Naruto for his insolent idiocy, to tell Sakura to get lost when she asked to walk with him, to be corrupted by the perverted ways of Kakashi-sensai…

But now he wasn't going to have that privilege, was he? No, he supposed he wasn't. Already the edge of his vision was blackening, narrowing, fuzzier than it had been. He couldn't even feel his heartbeat anymore.

There was no pain, no breath, no light – nothing. Nothing but the final darkness that comes with –

No!

Sasuke shot up out of bed, cold sweat covering him, blankets bunched around his waist, black unruly hair mussed and damp. His dark eyes were open wide, breathing erratic – what had happened?

He looked down at his wrists to make sure he really _was_ feeling his heartbeat, and not some kind of distant drum at his funeral ceremony. Scabs were crusting over his newest wounds, pink lines and faint scars marking older ones.

He wasn't bleeding, he wasn't dying, he wasn't dead; his heart calmed at the mere thought. Itachi wasn't smiling with his father, urging his on to die, his mother's voice wasn't encouraging it.

What was wrong with him?

Tears pricked at the back of his eyes, but he shook it off. No. He had already cried for the night, he wasn't going to do it again… Not until tomorrow.

His tears didn't fall from his eyes. Instead, they went down to his wrist to wait for tomorrow night.

It was time to get some sleep.

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**A/N:** This one was rather kind of personal, and a spur-of-the-moment-in-the-middle-of-the-night type of thing. (I've been dealing with some issues and insecurities lately, and some friends suggested writing as a way to keep me from "crying", so to speak. It's sort of helping...) 

I was going to turn this into a song-fic, but I couldn't find a song that fit the way I wanted it to...so, yeah. Hope you liked it.

Please tell me what you think -- and if you wish to flame, please be considerate. I **DID** warn you.

Have a good Easter everyone.


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